


Voldemort's Assistant

by TheRisingSun777



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Mages, Magic, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRisingSun777/pseuds/TheRisingSun777
Summary: It's the first year of Hogwarts for Neville Longbottom, in a universe where Dumbledore died during the war, and all hope within the Wizard universe has steadily died out. He encounters challenges in the form of Death Eater's as teachers, and a forced attendance to the school of Witchcraft and Horrors.Will he find the guts to stand up to those that oppose him, or will he fall into the Shadow of Despair that lurks within his Dark Arts Classroom?
Comments: 1





	1. The Era Of Darkness

The night was dark, as two men walked up towards the sleepy house. Lights were shining gently through the window, one brought out a wand, whilst the other brought out something different. Steadily they walked, with no hesitation in the forefront of their focus. They moved as lions would, stalking prey, making their way to the edge of the door step. 

Once they had found themselves standing at the very edge of it, with a doorbell in sight, one of the men rung, not once, but twice, as was customary when asking for a common greeting. From within, came the sound of cheery noises, a woman jumping around with a child in her arms, and a man talking gently on the phone. When neither answered, the doorbell was rung again. The second man, began to get impatient. Finally, after a longer set of minutes, they garnered the attention of the man of the house, who quickly rushed forwards to check the door. When he saw one of the men, a familiar face rolled into place. Lupin appeared to have come for a visit. He opened the door, and only then did he notice the magic involved, and the minor blur on the edges of the man's face.

"I-" But that was as far as his words got.

"Avada kedavra," The first man whispered, so as not to alert the mother and child in the backroom.

The man fell, but he was quick to be caught by a hovering charm, one that sent him gently floating onto the couch of the house. Once he landed, the second man nodded with a small, curt smile. Gently and silently, the two walked towards the room with the playing mother. The first man twisted his wand in his hand gently, swishing it side to side, making small little sparks in the air. Not enough for the two to be noticed, of course, but just enough to make out the general impression of his excitement. Now was the day in hand, and now was the perpetual ending.

She saw them, as they walked into the room.

"Are you some of James's friends. He didn't mention anyone coming over,"

"Yes, we are," The first man said, "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me!" He said, mimicking Lupin's voice as best as he could (With the slight modification of magic, of course).

"Oh, Lupin!" She sat the baby down, rushing forward to give the man a hug, "It's been so long I tho-"

"Avada kedavra," The man whispered for the second time, his voice a mere whisper.

The flash of light brought Lily to her knees. He nodded, and spared her not a second thought. The baby was all that was left to deal with now, and as the first had suggested, they were not to deal with this in magical terms.

"He is yours, Lord Voldemort,"

Voldemort twisted the familiar yet unfamiliar object in his hand. It was of silver, and it appeared sharp. The weapon itself was far more, barbaric, than he would liked, but it suited the purpose just fine. And, as the first had mentioned, it wouldn't do to have his hand forced by fate. No, they needed to take all of the precautions possible here. He walked forwards with the knife in hand, and placed it duly against the throat of the baby. When he looked into those eyes, he felt nothing in the way of remorse. Although he did think it ridiculous, that a child such as this could _ever_ stop his reign.

"No more than one of the other should ever exist," He said with a little bit of a snicker, "I think we'll put an end to such a rumor," And with that, he sliced through the neck of the young child.

-

"Y-you killed a CHILD Tom, do you not recognize the seriousness of what you've done!?" The old man pleaded, as Tom stood upon the other side of the ravine.

"If you want your allies to live Dumbledore, you'll listen to the words I have to say! On this night, the tides change. We both know history only sees the heroes from the winning side,"

The man shook as he stood, facing down the dark wizard. His wand had been pulled from his hand, forcefully disarmed from a carefully placed spell. He now stood empty of the hallow he claimed. Minerva laid dead on the ground beside him in the rain. Blood was pouring out form her skull, a gash placed directly against her temple. It was a weapon of war, something all wizards had sworn they'd never use. Weapons such as that did not belong in the reach of humanity, and yet here they were. Dumbledore himself had only just barely managed to deflect the bullets thrown at him. That did not mean he was without injuries. With a gash in the side of his forearm, and a broken shoulder, he stood as tall as he could manage, as much for the students in the castle as for himself.

Yet he was outnumbered, twenty to one, and without a wand. Half of the Death Eaters were holding guns, and half of the others were holding wands. He knew that together, they could force upon him a fate worst than death. Taking in a deep breath, he stepped one step forwards, nearly tripping over yet another carcass. Hagrid, a man innocent to his heart, who had jumped in front of him at the last moment, giving his life in the end, so that Dumbledore might be spared. And now? Now that sacrifice was going into empty air.

"Mark my words, Voldemort, there will come a day whe-" The sound was deafening, jumping into the airs of the castle, and into every students heart, as they were forced to watch their headmaster fall.

-

"Sirius,"

"Yes my lord?"

"We will be dividing the Defense against the Dark Arts class into two classes, each will be taught at the same time. I want you to be my Anti-Teacher," The man said.

"N-not your assistant, my lord? Not that I doubt your judgement, it's just-"

"My assistant has more pressing matters, like creating a Police, of sorts. No, you will be the Anti-Teacher to my Teacher. You will teach the students all that they need to know about the defense of my magic. But more than that, Sirius, you will give them Hope, do you understand?"

"Y-you wish to incite rebellion?" Sirius said, confused, but then understanding, "My lord, that is absolutely brilliant!"

"Yes, yes I know,"


	2. The Gathering Of Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day before his first day, one Neville has been dreading for a long, long while.

His grandmother didn't have much in the way to buy him anything, and he had been hoping they could skip the trip entirely. However, in the last couple of years, the importance of a first-hand wand had been steadily growing upon the Wizarding folk that had been haphazardly forced to go to Hogwarts. In a school filled with dark wizards that might break your hand for getting a spell wrong, it was common knowledge that you'd want a wand of your own. 

This was the reason he found himself in front of Ollivander's shop. The man looked ten times more tired than he felt, and was leaning with a gentle rasping breath against the side table. It seemed as if he hadn't had that good of a day. When he saw Neville, he let out a sharp rasp, making the boy jump, before the both of them realized that the other wasn't a threat. Once Ollivander had calmed himself, he put the wand back into his pocket, and eyed Neville apologetically, and went through the process of getting him a wand. When he finally found the wand that fit, Neville slowly walked out of the store.

He prayed for the life of him that they wouldn't encounter any Death Eaters, or the ones that had joined them over the years. Each time that they saw a chance, they would harass him, jeering about his parents, and the state that they were in. Or they would hurt his grandma, who at the moment, was clutching his arm tightly, nearly breaking it as they walked along. He gulped silently, and rushed to keep up with his grandma, who just happened to be three steps ahead of him at each moment. 

"Do you think I'll be alright?" He asked, as they moved past a street lamp, it buzzed out for a moment at the closeness of their magic, before flickering back on.

"Keep your head low and you will," His grandma said sharply.

She always had a way of doing that. The words that left her mouth were never kind, but Neville had found that they were always necessary. Everything she said had a purpose, and every lesson she taught him told him how to live. You kept your head low, and you did as you were told. You didn't speak up when your enemy was bigger than you, and you made sure that you knew what your fear meant, and why it was there. So long as you understood that fear in your chest, it couldn't control you. He followed those words like they were the only words in the world, though he'd never figured out how to control his fear.

 _keep your head low,_ it hadn't been his parents mantra. From what he'd been told, when his grandma was whispering with his uncles and aunts, and they thought he couldn't hear, their mantra had been something different entirely. They had always stood and fought, not hide and ran like he did. Would they have wanted this? For their son to be more of a coward than a man? 

He forced the thought out of his head, as they walked to one of the fireplaces. Grabbing some of the ash, he coughed for a moment, before shoving the ash towards the ground, and shouting the name of his house. Once he got there, his toad was waiting patiently, sat atop a perch, and looking towards him. The toad had been misbehaved at first, but...If you went to Hogwarts, you couldn't afford a misbehaved animal. Walking over to the toad, he gave it a treat from the cupboard.

"Only a day more," He whispered to the toad in a sullen tone.

His parents would've been excited to go to Hogwarts, of that he had no doubt. They would've been amazed by all of the sights, likely, and the magic there might've been even more of a spectacle. With a slight shaking of his hand, he walked back to his bedroom, and checked that all of his books were in place. They sat directly above his clothes, and his hand-me-down robes. With a bit of a sigh, he closed the suitcase, and sat down on his bed. it creaked gently, as he threw his legs over, and placed the top of his head against a pillow.

After a moment, his grandma walked into the room, her silhouette gentle against the darkness of it.

"Grandma?"

"Yes dear?"

"I'm scared," He admitted.

"I know you are. But I promise, so long as you don't get into fights, or try to act like a hero, you'll do fine,"

_Try not to act like a hero._

"I...But what if they decide to attack me anyways? You know they've done it before,"

"Than that's when you fight back. If anyone attacks you, it'll likely be the other students. Stay on the good side of the Death Eaters and you'll do fine," After a moment, in words that he knew hurt his grandmother to say, she said, "Join the Legion. If you're on their side, you'll be safe. Now go to sleep, you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

The day came as soon as the conversation ended. Or, at least, it felt like it. When he sat up, it took a few moments for the reality to set in. He shivered, but nonetheless, forced himself to walk into the washroom. There, he threw off his clothes, and jumped into the magically powered shower.

Steaming hot water fell down against his body, and he closed his eyes, forcing his thoughts to stray away from the coming hours, and the two tests he would be forced to go through, the first more nerve wracking than the other. Taking a couple of gentle breaths, he walked out of the water, and looked down at his dirtied clothes, realizing the fact that he hadn't brought any new ones with him. With a towel, he walked into his room. There, with a shiver he suspected was less from the cold, and more from his steadily growing fear, threw on his new robes, and walked out of his room.

-

One of the most tortuous parts, was that you were forced onto the Hogwarts Express, whether you wanted to be there or not. Each students was lined onto the compartments, and made to move to their respective areas. The muggleborns were placed onto a separate compartment, most of the time. At least if they were suspected to be such by the older prefects. 

He found himself moving towards an empty compartment, sitting himself down, and bringing a book out in hopes to detract attention. It was his Potion's Textbook. He couldn't say that he had all that much of an interest in it, instead what he would say is, is he had a hope that if he knew enough, he could again, detract attention. Professor Snape might be less obliged to pick upon him in anything, if he was at least semi-competent in the craft of it. Or at least, that was so much as his hope.

Professor Snape. One of the most dangerous of the Death Eaters, who had reportedly become ten times worst after the death of Lily Potter. It was no secret that he had once loved her, and after her death, it was said that Lord Voldemort forced him even deeper into his darkness, wrenching at him, until he eventually became worst than even Bellatrix Black could've ever hoped to be. When the time for horrors had steadily wrought itself lower, however, he had agreed to be the Potion's Master of Hogwarts once more.

Once more, Neville found himself shivering as he thought of the place. There were rumors that Voldemort himself taught the Dark Arts within that school, placing students in dangerous situations, teetering on the edge of perilous horrors and grotesque images. More than that, he had heard some of the older students say that he actually _likable_ as a teacher. Of such a thing, he didn't even want to consider. Instead, he put his mind back to his textbook, trying his best to focus away from everything in his head.

Yet, just before he could truly find his way around his thoughts, someone outside knocked on his compartment's door. Slowly he opened it, looking towards a girl who seemed particularly pale, with red around the rims of her eyes.

"M-might you let me in, please? All of the other compartments are f-full, and nobody's allowing me through,"

From the look in her eyes, he gained an immediate understanding, one that branched down to the deepest pits of his chest. He blinked for a moment, before composing himself carefully. He knew that he couldn't refuse her, not after what was going to happen. Taking a steadying breath, he nodded, and she came in.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"P-please don't say that," Neville stuttered, the words moving automatically from his mouth.

"Well it's true!" Her voice cracked at the words, "The wizard t-that forced me into Ollivander's to get a wand, he said it. W-we didn't even buy books, because he said those with only muggle money d-don't deserve entry into Hogwarts,"

The girl began to break out into tears, and Neville wasn't sure what he could say to comfort her. It was a fact that neither of them could implicitly deny. If she was a Muggleborn, she would be forced into Hogwarts to do the first test, and upon which she failed, they would execute her, in front of everyone. Her parents had likely already been obliviated of her existence. Neville swallowed, hard, and then spoke up himself.

"I-I..." He took a deep breath, "I could..."

"You could _what,_ " The girl flinched, clearly not meaning to make her words so harsh, "There's nothing either of us could do,"

"I could obliviate you, o-or at least I could try...Y-you wouldn't have to know anything, when it happens. You wouldn't even remember that you were about to die, and I could put false memories into your brain, o-or at least...At least something..." Neville drawled off, knowing the offer was useless, that she probably wouldn't even take it, because it was just too ridiculous.

"Y-you could do that?"

"I think, if I gathered enough magic. Maybe...Maybe I could make you think that, that Hogwarts is a nice place to be, and all of the..." He choked up, biting back tears as they threatened to well, "Make you think that it's just aesthetic, all of it, and...And that the Lord is a nice man, or...Or _something_ other than the way it is,"

"I've never been a coward...Not once in twelve years. But if you could," More tears fell down her face, "If you could, I would like that,"

Another boy knocked at the door then. When it slid back, there was a pale young boy, with red hair, and light freckles sticking out of his cheeks. He looked positively terrified, as he looked at the inside.

"I-is anyone else here, using this compartment?" He winced, as if he expected a dark reprimand at even asking upon the subject.

"N-no, none besides us," Neville replied to the face of Ron Weasley.

"Good. Do you think I could sit in here, I...I don't have anywhere else,"

"Yes, it's just fine," Neville replied, looking to the girl.

"Who's she?" Ron replied, as he sat himself down, and put his legs up to his chest, curling into as much of a ball as he could manage.

"I'm..." The girl took a short moment to compose herself, "I'm Hermione Granger,"

"You're not a royal name that I-" His eyes widened in dawning understanding, and he promptly said nothing else.

"Ron, can you ca...Can you cast an obliviate charm?"

"I can try. I've seen my brothers Fred and George cast them at least once or twice,"

Legionnaires. The Horrid Twins.

"D-d-do try, please," Neville said, his chest suddenly locking in fright; if he had to meet those two...

"Obliviate," Ron said.

Nothing happened, and after being asked, Hermione recited half of a book with a small smile, "I-it's a comfort tactic...Please try again,"

This time, Neville tried it, " _Obliviate,"_ A small center of purple light leeched from his wand, and into her brain.

He was able to feel the sudden lurch as her memories dissipated into thin air. With his wand, he had reached farther than he would've preferred, exorcising each and every memory she'd ever had.

"N-n-now we need to,"

Ron's eyes widened, "I know what we're doing,"

"We're giving her peace," Neville said sharply, "It's the least we can do..."

"I'm not against it," Ron said, offended, "It's just..."

"We'd better be careful about it," Neville finished.

After a long moment of writing, and keeping a careful eye on a sleeping Hermione, they wrote out an entire life for her.

She was of a lesser known noble house, the house of Granger She had studied magic all of her life, down to the bare bones of Potions and the True Dark Arts; of which they had both been forced to read, so that they might have a better chance of fitting in, instead of sticking out. Although she had never _truly_ managed to cast magic, she had always been anticipating the day she could go to Hogwarts, to feel the rush of endorphins that true magic might give her. It was in such a pursuit, that she had read everything she could (it had taken the combined force of the two to assemble the vast wealth of knowledge Hermione would have). Not only this, but she was a firm believer in the status quo that the Lord had inflicted upon Britain, and could not wait to meet him. 

After all of this, Ron wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead, and Neville offered him some water. They implanted the memories into Hermione, hoping for the best when she opened her eyes.

A couple of minutes passed, before that finally happened, and when it did, she looked to them with a smile, one that would've been seen on Draco earlier that morning.

"How are you two doing?" She asked with a relaxed smile, "That rest of mine was rather needed,"

"We're doing...We're doing fine," Ron replied, earning a nod from this new persona, "And you Neville?"

"I'm doing alright," Neville said, smiling just barely.

It felt perverse, what they had just done. It felt _wrong,_ and yet...And yet, it was the only way to give her a sense of peace in the end. So long as she believed in the lie, then...So long as she believed in the lie that so many bought into now, she would be okay, because she would believe herself to be of a noble house so strongly, that the moment the curse hit, she wouldn't even notice it.


End file.
